Choo choo

I come to you from an iPad on a train.

This morning Steve and I set off on our last just-the-two-of-us holiday. We considered Barbados, toyed with San Francisco, nearly went for Fiji before deciding on Chester.

Our bags were packed and we hitched a lift to the station with the father-in-law (£10 a day to park at the station? No thank you!). After a brief 5 minutes in the sunshine, we boarded our train. Steve carried our matching cases to the luggage rack while I evicted a squatter from our reserved seats; normally one to feel guilty about such things, even this didn't dent my mood, I mean, I am nearly 7 months pregnant and he was drinking lager at 11am and reading the Daily Sport.

We settled in our seats, made sure our tickets were to hand so as not to delay the ticket inspector when he came and took out our respective books.

Ten minutes passed.

Steve remarked that he was peckish. I brought out the bag of triangle cut cheese sandwiches which he had made this morning.

'Hmmmm', he pondered, 'But it is only 11am, maybe I should wait until 12.'

'We're on holiday', I reasoned, 'And besides, I have pepper sticks as well for later.'

He tucked in.

Two minutes passed.

Steve stopped mid bite.

'Dear God, what the hell has happened to us?'

'What?' I replied, crunching on a pepper stick.

'We are too young to be sitting on a train on our way to a summer holiday in Chester, debating whether to eat our sandwiches in plastic bag even though it is technically not lunch time.'

I let this statement sink in for a second.

'We could attempt to do it in the train toilet?' I halfheartedly ventured.

Steve's eyed my large bump and then wearily,

'For the sake of logistics and common decency, I think it is best that we read our books.'

For I am a rare breed

Things have been busy here.

Steve has been working super hard, not only at his actual job but on his degree, it has been a huge undertaking but one, I am glad to say, he is excelling at.

We have had some lovely family birthdays to celebrate.

Preparations are being made for my lovely in laws wedding which is two weeks today.

The house has been completely ignored due all the business.

And me, well I have been mainly getting fatter, failing at hypnobirthing classes (it seems I am not great at relaxing..), laughing at the wriggles in my tummy and thinking about my own birthday.

Yes, you remember I love birthdays don't you? All birthdays but my own is, of course, super special. Why it has not been made a public holiday yet is beyond me. I love everything about birthdays, the celebrations, the cards, the love and, I am not ashamed, the presents! I am a very lucky girl - my friends and family are always too nice and buy me things when they really don't need to but this year I am a tad worried.

The problem is, I suppose, I am fairly unusual as a female. You see, I am finally going to admit it....

I hate baths.

Yep, really. The water gets too cold, too quickly, I get bored very, very easily and, after about 8 minutes I start to feel like I am just lying there, stewing in my own dirt. I mean ew. Why do that and waste an hour of my life running the thing, getting in, getting bored, getting cold when I could jump in the shower and achieve the same result in a quarter of the time?

Yes, my hatred of baths is nearly legendary among my family but it does cause a problem around present giving times. You see, the bath hating is slightly extended to general pampering. Don't get me wrong, I like to paint my nails.... no wait, I like it when my nails are painted, but treatments leave me cold. I don't get it. And don't even mention spa days or massages. I am very funny about being massaged and really feel quite ill with it. I am a rubbish girl aren't I?

Which brings me back to the birthday issue... being up the hilary, the usual staple gifts of alcohol and clothes are out - am I doomed to be overwhelmed by a million bath sets?!

My knocked up self

So I am 26 and a half weeks pregnant now and definitely look it, no longer am I the girl who could have just eaten a big lunch.

It is very strange watching your body change. I have always felt fairly comfortable in my skin; I have had body hang ups like everyone and will never be my thighs biggest fan but generally I have always been pretty happy with my lot.

I therefore never really thought about how I would feel about pregnancy changing my body, I assumed I would be perfectly happy and embrace it.

And I have.

But it is disconcerting. Not just in the things no longer fit way (I miss you pink vest top!) but in the way your body is no longer your own. There are wriggles and kicks and punches in your tummy that you have no control over. Someone else has literally set up camp in you. And things that were super easy before such as putting socks on or tying a shoe become five minute tasks as you just don't bloody bend that way! Gone too are the looks from boys across a pub, I am now very much the up the duff one and therefore invisible to the male species. Now, yes, I am with husband and yes, we are very happy but seriously ladies, we all appreciate the odd admiring glance from a randomer from time to time don't we?

Balancing all these physical changes with crazy hormones is fun to start with and I generally manage it and feel like a hot 27 year old woman with child and then someone comments,

"Wow Liv, you are huge! Are you sure you aren't having twins?"

"God, you have really got big now, you won't be able to fit through doors soon."

And I am nearly a quivering mess of tears.

I swear, I will always remember this when I am talking to a pregnant woman from now on - and people, if you know of someone avec un bebe dans le tummy then please just say the following:

"How are you? You look gorgeous! Best looking pregnant person I have seen!"

THE END

ps. as a side note I must mention that The Boobs have also reached gargantuan proportions; put it this way, I am approaching the second half of the alphabet in cup size at a disturbing pace!

For he is my love

So I hauled myself upstairs to bed.

It had been a long day and I was looking forward to cosying up in bed with my Steve who, although slightly ill, was in that lovely stage of poorliness where he was no longer throwing up or disgusting but still retained the slight vulnerability and cuddlability of a sickee.

Yep, I would scooch into bed and cuddle up with my boy with my little baby boy kicking away inside my belly and drift off to slumber feeling happy and lovely.

I practically skipped into the bedroom.

Steve was sat up in bed with a pen and paper, he smiled at me.

"Now Liv, did we do it in Newcastle on that weekend we stayed there on the way up to Edinburgh?"

I blink at him.

He continues.

"What? I'm making a list of all the cities we have had sex in. I've got to 19 and want to make it to 20!"

Things I have come to discover 5 months into my pregnancy

• Socks are a challenge
• Random strangers will come up to you and touch your stomach
• 99% of the time you will resist the urge to punch them
• Feeling your baby move = awesome
• Seeing your stomach move when the baby moves = freaky deaky
• A double HH bra cup will fit on a grown man's head
• You will sort of forget what you looked like unpregnant

Me at 20 weeks, I'm now 23 weeks and a scary amount bigger...

• You will miss wine. A lot
• You and the baby will become a little team and you will talk to him constantly
• You will get strange looks for this
• When pram shopping, it will not be amusing when your husband pretends to use the model in Mothercare's handles as fighter jet controls
• The recommended 100g per person of pasta is not enough
• You will have nightmares about your baby being Stewie Griffin
• It will become nigh on impossible to tend to your ladygarden. Turns out you can't bend that way in the shower

So it was a mistake putting my mobile number as the RSVP on the invitations for my Nana's 90th Birthday party.

Some of the conversations I have had today....

Me: Hello

Random Man: Hello, who is this?

Me (confused): Well, you called my phone, so who is this?

Random Man: I don't want to say but I can come to the party.

Me (even more confused): Right....

Random Man: You know, the party, on Sunday, for the birthday.

Me: Ah! Right, yes. Great, well, we'll see you there. What is your name?

Random Man: I'd rather not say, but I live at number 8. Oh, and are presents necessary?

Me: No, not at all. We would just love you to be there to celebrate with us. No presents required!

Random Man: Well she is getting one. (Hangs up)

---------------------------------------------------------

Me: Hello

Random Woman: Hello, is that Livy?

Me: It is! Is it about the birthday party?

Random Woman: Yes, I am Beryl from Number 12. We only moved in a month ago, we were so pleased to get the invitation but unfortunately we are unable to come as we are seeing friends on Sunday.

Me: Oh what a shame, thanks for letting me know.

Random Woman (continuing as if I hadn't spoken): Well, I say friends, my husband used to work with the gentleman in 1976, or was it 1977, and since them we have met up for lunch on occasion. It will be only the second time I have met his wife though; the last time we met up she was in Abu Dhabi for some reason. I think it was Abu Dhabi - somewhere exotic and foreign anyway, and I said it was a shame as the time before when she did come was lovely. We went to a gala dinner and had a lovely time. I am not sure if she is coming this Sunday though.

Me: Well I hope you have a lovely time.

Random Woman: We will. I have only met your grandmother once, it was a few weeks ago and I was going to the chemist for some reason, oh yes, I think Alf needed some aspirin - he has a bad heart and the doctor recommended it, I wasn't sure but you don't question medical professionals do you? Anyway, I saw your grandmother at her door so I went and said hello. She was lovely, I am amazed she is 90. What a great age and she doesn't look it. It is such a shame we can't come. Will you be doing cake?

Me (in a bit of a daze): Cake? Yes, we have ordered one.

Random Woman: I love a nice piece of cake. Victoria Sponge is my favourite. It has been so lovely talking to you, do you live locally?

Me: Ummm.... fairly.

Random Woman: Well I will tell your grandmother how nice and chatty you are.

Me: Thank you. Have a lovely weekend.

Random Woman: You too! Bye.

Me: Bye.

Random Woman: Bye bye

Me: Bye

Random Woman: Goodbye and god bless.

I hang up.

It may be a long few days....

Abbrevs

"And how is baby today?"

The midwife smiled at me.

"Kicking away", I smiled back.

"And Mum?"

And that is when I nearly punched her in the face.

I had forced my smile through clenched teeth when she had missed the definite article and referred to the baby as just 'baby' but referring to me the person to me myself with no-one else in the room really made me squirm.

I know, I know, I am being slightly unreasonable. The, otherwise lovely, midwife was just trying to be a bit more personable but seriously, I am not three! The baby is a he (did I tell you that?) or it or 'the baby', I am 'you'.

Also, please don't refer to me as preggo or preggers ('up the hilary' or 'knocked up' is fine though) and don't ask about my hubby (bleeeeeeurk).

And, just while we are at it, I eat vegetables, not veggies; I like chicken sandwiches, not sarnies; please don't get me a crimbo prezzie and spag bol makes me feel physically angry (but I love spaghetti bolagnaise and would be delighted if you made it for me).

And if you follow all that then, natch, it will be totes amaze :)

Stern Puppy agrees with me. So there.